


Not Lost in You

by Dilettantism



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28480290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dilettantism/pseuds/Dilettantism
Summary: Warning for the sake of caution. Nothing outside of canon happens. What was Katara thinking in The Cave of Two Lovers? Maybe this? Shippy, sappy and slightly self-indulgent. But if it makes you smile at all, it will have been worth the effort. Kataang, of course.
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar)
Kudos: 15





	Not Lost in You

When rocks begin to fall I can only stare in shocked horror. Aang calls up a gust of wind to move everyone else away from the danger. Then he races toward me and shoves me back. We land in a sprawl, his arm across me, as tons of earth and stone crash to the cave floor. Dust fills the air and I feel a moment of panic at the thought of how far underground we are. My back feels like one giant bruise, and I think I hit my head. But the weight of Aang’s arm on top of me is strangely compelling. If Sokka had done this for me, I’d probably have. For a wild moment I even consider pulling him closer, wrapping both of my arms around him and bringing his face toward mine. 

And what might happen then, with his mouth close to mine? I can only wonder because all too soon he is up and away. My new fascination with Aang’s mouth may be turning into an obsession. It’s all Sokka’s fault, of course.

His throwaway comment has upturned my life. What made him choose the exact same words to describe Aang as Aunt Wu used for my future husband? Did Sokka eavesdrop on my fortune telling session, then deliberately use the same phrase she did? Brothers can do completely annoying and confusing things, but I don’t think even Sokka would purposefully throw me into such turmoil.

Aang? My sweet little friend? As a husband? Surely such a thought should never have occurred to my brother or to me. Except now that it has, I can’t seem to see Aang the same way I did before. 

Gran Gran makes these clever drawings. When you first glance at them, they seem to be clearly one thing—a vase, or a rabbaroo, or an old woman. But then something in your eye or your mind shifts and you see two faces in profile, or a turtleduck, or a beautiful young woman. And then your brain can no longer settle on what the drawing shows and switches back and forth from moment to moment. 

I feel like Aang is one of those drawings now. One moment I look at him and see only my best friend, kind and a little silly and so young. He is someone who wants to go penguin sledding and ride mail chutes in Omashu. But then with my next breath I see the powerful bender, the boy who in an afternoon mastered every bit of bending I’d learned over an entire lifetime of practice. I notice how beautiful his eyes are, so bright and expressive. I’m unduly fascinated by his hands, strong and capable and very nearly as large as mine, even though I have almost two years on him and am half a head taller. His hands remind me that some day he will surely be taller than me.

Ever since Sokka said what he said, I notice how often my own hands are touching Aang. It’s only friendliness, right? A gentle squeeze of his shoulder. A quick hug. A small kiss on the cheek. Then why does my chest feel so strange when I put my hands on him, like I can’t quite catch my breath?

He turned so pink when I kissed his cheek. It was entirely adorable. And his skin felt so warm beneath my lips. I often wonder how his lips would feel against mine. Would they be soft and warm like his face? Does he think about kissing me, too?

All these questions came into the Cave of Two Lovers with me. When I read the story of Oma and Shu I have to wonder if I will have a great love story like theirs. Though I must say that I would prefer a happier ending! And then, of course, I am thinking of my powerful bender again. I can definitely see myself with a bender. I guess a water bender is most likely. It could be fun to train with water together. But if he’s another kind of bender, maybe our elements could do wonderful things when used in tandem, like when Aang and I shaped clouds by bending air and water together. And I’m back to Aang. Could be the one? Not only is he a powerful bender, he’s the most powerful bender in the world. He certainly fits the fortune teller’s description. I am desperate to know if we could be more than friends.

I must admit that satisfying this curiosity plays as much of a role as desire to find our way to the surface when I ask “well, what if we kissed?”

However, his reaction to my suggestion makes me feel sure there is no way we will ever end up married. “I wouldn’t want to kiss you” he says before adding the insulting clarification “I’d rather kiss you than die!” 

I feel so betrayed. Because I did genuinely believe he thought of me as more than a friend. He made me a necklace! He blushes around me. He shows off for me so frequently and dangerously that I fear for his life. All I have to hear is “Look, Katara,” and I’m ready with some healing water. Perhaps I completely misunderstand flirting and signs of attraction. There wasn’t exactly much opportunity to observe or practice flirtation in my village. 

And so we walk on with no more talk of love or kissing. We seem no closer to escaping when I notice the light of the torch dimming.

“We’re gonna run out of light any second now, aren’t we?” Aang asks me.

“I think so”

“Then what are we gonna do?” 

“What can we do?” I answer, placing my hand over his on the handle of the torch. It seems the time has come to take my suggestion seriously. Maybe kissing is a crazy idea, but nothing else has helped us find our way out. I can only hope that he really would rather kiss me than die.

Aang and I turn to face each other. His hand is solid and warm beneath mine. He tilts his chin up so our eyes meet steadily. A faint smile touches his lips and makes me suspect his earlier words did not reflect his true desires. I smile back. Ha! He definitely wants to kiss me. And I can’t remember anything I have ever wanted more than to feel his lips against mine.

We lean closer to each other. When he is a breath away the light dies, fading slowly into nothing. What does that matter? We are so close that we don’t need light to find each other. My eyes are closed anyway, but the warmth of his skin guides me across the slight distance that separates us. I tilt my head slightly when our noses bump. And then the moment is upon us. His lips touch mine so gently. I breathe in the soft sigh he releases. My breath hitches and a thousand wings flutter in my chest. I try to memorize every single thing about this moment—the scent of his skin, the feel of his hand under my fingers, the thundering of my heart and most of all of the incredible sensation of his lips pressing into mine. Only our hands and mouths touch, yet the heat generated by those two points of contact quickly sweeps through my entire body. A fierce elation kindles in me. This kiss, this slight contact, is even better than waterbending. I open my eyes slightly, wishing I could see how he looks kissing me.

I am not expecting to be able to see anything, but I find that I can. Eerie blue light surrounds us. Our lips separate as I reflexively look upwards. Glowing crystals form a path along the ceiling of the tunnel. Aang has the sweetest bemused smile and his eyes slowly blink open. A bit self-conscious now that he can see me, I turn and make a bit more space between us. I can’t believe we kissed. My first kiss! Surely it was his first kiss, too. Wasn’t it? Before he plunged into the sea and slept for a hundred years he traveled and knew people all over the world. What if he has kissed some of them? Did they know more about kissing than I do? Did he like kissing them more than kissing me?

Quashing my increasingly frantic speculation, I hold his hand a bit tighter. I won’t let my mounting discomfort spoil this moment. We both look toward the path laid out by the crystals. After staring for a moment, I turn back to Aang and reach for his other hand. Catching it, I lace our fingers together. 

“It’s made of some kind of crystals. They must only light up in the dark.” Aang says. 

While this is completely reasonable, a small part of me holds onto the belief that it wasn’t only the dark that made the crystals come alive. Surely love had something to do with it, too. Love is brightest in the dark is what the inscription said. And there was an image of Oma and Shu kissing. I entertain the fanciful thought that the crystals were powered by love. Inside my head, it doesn’t feel at all weird to think that. Indisputably, Aang loves me and I love him. Maybe we’re still figuring out exactly how we love each other and what all the implications are, but no one could doubt our love. We love each other. We kissed. The crystals lit up. Cause and effect says my inner romantic.

But I allow the logical part to myself to respond to him with “that’s how the two lovers found each other; they just put out their lights and followed the crystals.” I realize that the crystals really do make a path and add an excited “that must be the way out!”

I can’t resist giving Aang a quick hug. Because that’s what I do when I’m happy. Or when I’m sad. Or when he’s sad. Or when I’m proud of him. It always feels so nice to put my arms around his slim form, and to feel his surprisingly strong arms around me. I pull away a little faster than usual, though, suddenly worried about what happens now that we’ve kissed. Does this mean he’s my boyfriend now? Is that what I want? We’re awfully young for that. Aren’t we? Why does this thought cause such turbulence when I am completely unperturbed at the knowledge that we love each other?

Aang hesitates and I hear him say “soo, um…” Oh no, he wants to talk about the kiss! But I can’t bear the thought of talking about it. Simply hearing the thoughts running through my mind is mortifying enough; there’s no way I’m also going to put voice to them.

“Let’s go,” I interrupt and hurry away from him. 

Soon enough, I hear him follow me. We will have time enough to talk about the kiss later, after we reach Omashu.

**Author's Note:**

> First person is hard, but I'm trying to become a better writer. So here we are. More sweeties being sweet. I disavow responsibility for any resultant toothaches. Title from Sara Teasdale's "I Am Not Yours"


End file.
